


The Kiss and the Nicotine

by pepperlandgirl4



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-21 23:41:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8264708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperlandgirl4/pseuds/pepperlandgirl4
Summary: You know what's hotter than Shatner reading on the couch with a cigarette? Nothing, that's what. NOTHING





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** : Hot, dirty lies.

Bill’s dressing room door was partly open in what Leonard could only assume was an invitation. He had a script in one hand, resting it against his stomach, and a cigarette in the other, the smoke making a lazy halo around his head. His legs were stretched out, stocking feet resting on the back of the couch, one crossed over the other. The lamp behind his head spread golden light around him, catching and highlighting the color of his hair. The lamp was just a regular reading lamp, placed in the most inconspicuous of positions, but Leonard could almost believe that somebody had designed that light. Somebody had meant for it to hit Bill’s tan skin and long lashes _just so_. His eyes were half-closed, which meant he could be reading, he could be daydreaming, or he could be watching the door. Watching Leonard quietly drink in and catalogue every detail of Bill’s body. 

Every line was graceful. Could a man be graceful even when he wasn’t moving? Maybe not any man, but Bill was the sort who could swagger even when seated, so it didn’t really surprise Leonard. Bill would let him watch as long as he wanted. He was, after all, a performer, accustomed to the heavy scrutiny. More than that, he was a man who understood exactly what he did to other people in general, and Leonard in particular—and he enjoyed it. That power he had over women and men and nearly everybody who got within twenty feet of him. 

Leonard itched to touch him. And it was a literal inch. Just under his skin. Crawling over his nerve endings. Dancing up and down his arm like a swarm of ants. He rubbed his wrist absently, not that it would do any good. He was almost used to way his fingers tingled every time he got anywhere close to Bill. He had to be. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to get any work done. 

“Are you going to shut the door?” Bill asked, his voice drifting as lazily as the smoke above his head. 

Leonard didn’t need a second invitation. The door clicked behind him, and that was followed by the more distinct click of the lock falling into place. 

“What are you reading?” 

“The next script.” He took a deep drag of the cigarette and exhaled through his nose. “You’ve probably already read it.” 

“No, I haven’t had a chance yet.” 

“We’re not going to film much together.” 

“Oh?” Leonard settled on end of the couch, dragging Bill’s legs down to settle in his lap. “How come?” 

He lowered the script, letting it rest on his chest. “You’re stranded on a planet with De.” 

“Ahh. You don’t have to stop reading just because of me. I didn’t come in here to distract you.” 

Bill smiled. The slow smile that gave the person on the receiving end enough time to realize he was being trapped. “What did you come in here for?” 

“This couch looked comfortable.” 

“It’s not.” 

“It’s fine.” He gestured at the script. “Don’t mind me.” 

“I won’t.”

Bill put the cigarette back in his mouth and let it dangle from his lips. He lifted the script again, blocking Leonard’s view, but that was fine. He had plenty of other things to look at. 

“I wonder who they’re going to use for the giants,” Bill murmured, more to himself than anything. 

Leonard didn’t ask what he was talking about. Clearly, the script called for giants. That wasn’t any of his concern. He dragged the tips of his fingers back and forth over the top of Bill’s foot, smoothing his fingertips over the soft material of his sock, and tracing the outline of each toe. When he reached the second toe, Bill jerked his foot away. 

“Don’t tickle me.” 

“I’m not.” 

“You were.” 

Leonard raised his hands innocently. “I’m not.” 

“Good.” Bill refocused his attention on the script. “Are you going to the party tonight?” 

“Maybe.” Leonard avoided Bill’s toes, choosing to focus on the arch of his foot. His fingers danced from his ankle to the base of his toes and back down again. Bill twitched but didn’t pull away. “Are you?” 

“Yes. Stop that.” 

“What?” 

“You’re tickling me.” 

“If you’re going, I’ll go.” He didn’t stop caressing the bottom of Bill’s foot as his other hand inched up his calf. It was a very, very slow journey. Each bit of ground he gained, he gained gradually. He wasn’t quite sure what his final destination was—perhaps wherever Bill told him to stop. Heat from his body soaked through the material, which only made Leonard regret the material’s existence. “Whose party is it?” 

“I don’t know. Does it matter?” 

“No, not really.” 

“I don’t think we’re going to be called back to the set today.” Bill reached behind him, ground the cigarette out in the ash tray, took another from the pack, and lit it, without looking up from his script once. “Do you want one?” 

Leonard’s fingers were above Bill’s knee now, moving up his thigh like a spider. He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing—since he most assuredly was not tickling Bill. He kept expecting the other man to push his hand away, to tell him to knock it off, to demand to know just what the fuck he thought he was doing. All of those would be fair reactions. And the last was more than a fair question. Leonard didn’t have an answer for it, though. 

A sudden image filled Leonard’s mind, so clear, so vibrant, that he wondered if it had already happened. Leaning forward, knocking the script from Bill’s hand, and pressing their mouths together, claiming the smoke in Bill’s mouth before he had the chance to completely inhale. Listening to his ears buzz from the combined force of the nicotine and the kiss. Exhaling with his lips less than an inch from Bills…

He had already been semi-erect, but now he was completely hard. A fact that Bill would be aware of if he moved his leg just a few inches. And he still wasn’t stopping Leonard from rubbing his thigh. This was not a friendly touch. This is not how two men touched each other when they were talking about scripts and parties and cigarettes. 

“Lenny?” 

Leonard jerked, pulling his hand away as if he had been scalded, losing all the ground he gained. “What?” 

“I asked if you wanted a cigarette.” 

“No. No, I’m…good.” 

Bill lowered the script once again, the cherry of his cigarette glowing like a little red eye. “What’s wrong with you? You seem uptight. I mean, more than usual.” 

“I’m not. I should leave you to your reading.” 

Bill’s legs tensed and he pressed down, holding Leonard to the couch. “No.” 

“What?” 

“You can’t feel me up and then leave. That isn’t how this works.” 

“I wasn’t feeling you up.” 

“Well, you were. And now you’re trying to run away, and I don’t think that’s very nice.” 

“We were just talking about a party. That’s all.” 

“You locked the door,” Bill countered. 

“Force of habit.” 

“Force of habit.” Bill gave a small, knowing smile. This one let Leonard know that Bill saw right through his shit. “Right. The habit you have of locking yourself up in a room with me?” 

“I think I need a smoke.” 

“No.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“The time limit has run out on that offer.” 

“Come on. Give me one.” 

“No.” And then Bill did what could easily be the most infuriating thing he had ever done in his life. He put the cigarette between his perfect lips and took a long, deep drag, closing his eyes with obvious bliss. 

Something snapped inside of Leonard. He wasn’t sure what, but he felt it breaking free and whipping back, like a rope that had been holding too much tension. Perhaps it had been the rope that kept him tethered to the couch cushion like an idiot. But now he was free to move, and he did. Pushing Bill’s legs aside, stretching his body over him, plucking the rebellious cigarette from Bill’s lips, and slamming their mouths together exactly as he had previously imagined it. 

He pushed his tongue between Bill’s lips, forcing him to part his mouth. He did so with a sound of surprise. One that was caught up with the smoke that escaped him, muffled as Leonard inhaled deeply. It burned his lungs, but despite what he had expected, the buzzing in his ears had nothing to do with the nicotine and everything to do with the pressure, the texture, the perfect fit of Bill’s mouth. Leonard might have taken him by surprise, but it didn’t take long for Bill to find his feet. Even though he was pinned to the couch beneath Leonard, the script trapped between them, he responded to the kiss like he was the one calling the shots. Like he had taken Leonard by the chin, held his face still, and claimed him.

Leonard fought back, resisting him, wrestling for control. He thought it might be a good idea to stop before things got out of hand, but things were pretty much already out of hand. And Bill’s mouth was doing weird and wonderful things to him. It would be so easy—too easy—to just give himself over to that. But he was not completely untethered, and he needed to breathe. 

He broke away, and brought the newly won cigarette to his mouth. His lips were already a little sore, a little swollen, and the nicotine hit his bloodstream like a revelation. “Thank you.” 

“That was a dirty trick.” 

Leonard arched his brow. “But I got what I wanted.” 

“Is that how we’re going to play? The ends justify the means?” 

“I thought that was how you played your games.” Leonard inhaled again. He wasn’t sure why, but this was the best cigarette he ever had. Even better than the first one—the one that gave him an undeniable sense of _where have you been all my life?_

Their faces were only inches apart, and Bill plucked the cigarette back without protest from Leonard. One more drag, and he stubbed it out, like the fallen comrade before it. That was probably his signal to move away, pull back, put an end to all of this. It was a good chance for it, too, since Bill was momentarily distracted, his head tilted back so he could see the ash tray. His head tilted back, his throat exposed, the tendons in his neck tight, the line of his jaw perfect. It was distracting. Bill was always distracting. He got off on being the center of attention, of all. 

Regardless of the reason, Leonard didn’t move in time. He realized that when Bill gripped the back of his head, drawing his mouth forward, closing the few inches that had separated them. Bill’s mouth was warm, and this time, there wasn’t any battle. He was just soft and welcoming, like he would turn anything over to Leonard. And all Leonard had to do was ask for it. His cock became fully engorged once again, straining against the zipper. He shifted his hips, trying to relieve the pressure, and slid against Bill’s equally erect length. 

Bill snaked a leg around him, holding him in place as the kiss stretched into eternity. Bill pushed his hand between their bodies, his fingers finding the zipper. Without missing a beat, he worked the fly open and pushed his fingers into Leonard’s pants. Bill was working fast. Leonard couldn’t find it in himself to complain. Especially since his cock was throbbing, and his head was throbbing, and his fucking toes were throbbing. 

And then Bill’s hand disappeared. 

“What?” Leonard gasped. 

“Patience, Lenny.” 

“I…” 

The hot, wet tip of Bill’s cock slid against his own. Leonard’s eyes widened at the brief contact. His own cock was leaking, the head slick and covered in pre-come. It dragged across Bill’s zipper, his underwear, and then his shaft. His skin was so smooth, so warm. Each touch electrified him, and he wasn’t sure how he got there. They had just been kissing, and now he had Bill’s dick brushing against his, driving him wild, and had all of this really started over a cigarette? 

Bill wrapped his hand around both cocks, squeezing them together until Leonard honestly didn’t know if the throbbing he felt was a result of his own pulse, or Bill’s. They kissed again, their tongues winding together as Bill began to move his hand, stroking them, his palm almost rough compared to the silky texture of his shaft. 

“Bill…Billy…” 

His fingers were hard, inflexible. There was no chance of breaking away from his grip, and Leonard wouldn’t dream of trying. He moved his hips, thrusting against Bill, and he responded in kind. They rocked together, increasing the friction and heat, spreading the pre-come that was flowing freely now. Neither of them could stay away from each other’s mouth. If Bill broke away for air, Leonard chased him until their lips were sealed together now. 

Pleasure wrapped around his spine, and it occurred to him that as good as Bill’s hand felt, his mouth would be better. And his ass…Leonard was pretty sure that would be perfect. Perhaps he would find out one day. One day soon, for that matter. 

The thought spurred him into moving faster. He needed more. More of everything. Bill moaned, the sound winding through him, wrapping around his spine in red-hot pleasure. He wasn’t going to last. His balls were pulled tight, his stomach clenching, and his chest burning. He needed oxygen. He couldn’t breathe without lifting his head, and thus, oxygen would simply have to wait. 

Bill moaned again. A sound of such complete need, of hunger, flowed from him. Because of Leonard. Because of the two of them together. His cock pulsed, jerking against Bill’s, and his orgasm rushed through him. Bill tensed beneath him, arching his back, his free hand clawing at Leonard’s arm, his nails digging into his flesh through his shirt. 

Leonard finally broke away from Bill’s mouth, resting his brow on the arm of the couch. He took a deep breath, and he couldn’t smell anything except Bill’s cologne. After several long seconds, Leonard tried to sit up. His muscles felt ridiculously watery. 

“We made a bit of a mess,” Leonard murmured. 

“Yeah.” 

“Pass me a cigarette, will ya?” 

A beat of silence. Then, “No.”


End file.
